


Adaptation

by AudreyV



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, Femslash, Fuck Or Die, Guilt, Laughter During Sex, Lesbian Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mentor/Protégé, Mildly Dubious Consent, POV Character of Color, Porn with Feelings, Power Dynamics, Pre-Canon, Sex Pollen, Tribadism, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 18:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18878989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyV/pseuds/AudreyV
Summary: “You're perspiring,” Michael noted with a grim expression. “You're holding tension in your neck, jaw and hands. Your pupils are dilated. You're having a reaction.”“The Shenzhou will be back in two hours. Plenty of time,” Philippa insisted, but Michael checked her tricorder and frowned.“In two hours your brain will be lightly poached in cerebrospinal fluid.”





	Adaptation

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve seen and loved a few Pon Farr fics for Michael. It made me wonder what a sex pollen/fuck or die fic would look like if Philippa was the one who got whammied. 
> 
> The gentle humor of Prime Philippa feels less in my wheelhouse than the snark of her mirror version, but she is still such a joy to write. I hope I’ve done these two justice. 
> 
> Thanks to PieHeda for the beta and for holding my hand while I grumbled and whined about how uncooperative this fic was.

“No.”

“Philippa—”

“Absolutely not. I am fine,” Phillipa Georgiou growled through clenched teeth. She bent over slightly and hugged her arms to her chest.

Michael paused in her search of the decommissioned research outpost’s medical cabinet. She walked over to the simple metal frame bed where Philippa sat and observed her for a moment.

“You're perspiring,” Michael noted with a grim expression. “You're holding tension in your neck, jaw and hands. Your pupils are dilated. You're having a reaction.”

“The Shenzhou will be back in two hours. Plenty of time,” Philippa insisted, but Michael checked her tricorder and frowned.

“In two hours your brain will be lightly poached in cerebrospinal fluid.”

“I think I'm the best judge of my own limits here, number one.” Philippa’s gaze softened. She slumped a bit, weakly waving off Micheal when she attempted to take her pulse. “This is asinine.”

“What do you mean?” Michael asked. She gently but firmly pushed Philippa back until she was prone on the bed.

“Katarang Lotuses aren't even indigenous to this planet! How unlucky must I be to not only encounter one, but also to have a reaction?”

“Half of all humans react to their pollen. It's not just you.”

“You're not,” Philippa grumbled.

“Clearly I'm in the other 50%,” Michael joked. She reached out and brushed a damp lock of hair off Philippa’s forehead. “I can help. If you’ll let me.”

“I couldn't ask that of you.”

“I'm offering.” Michael held Philippa’s gaze. When a “no” didn't come, Michael moved her hand gently down Philippa’s abdomen, feeling the sweat-drenched uniform fabric under her fingers.

“Stop,” Philippa said firmly, catching Michael’s wrist. “I care deeply for you, Michael.”

“And I you,” Michael replied, puzzled.

“I’m concerned you aren't capable of making a logical decision due to our emotional bond.”

“So rejecting me isn't enough, you must insult me as well?” Michael quipped. She smiled down at her captain.“The logical decision is to save your life. My mind tells me that. My heart insists I do so, regardless of how that might change our dynamic in the future. For my part, I cannot imagine a situation in which our having sexual relations would damage our working relationship. I know you and l know myself. We would adapt.”

“I envy your confidence,” Philippa mumbled. 

“It’s confidence founded in seven years of empirical evidence,” Michael replied.She took Philippa’s hand and squeezed.“We will adapt.”

Philippa regarded her with serious eyes for a long moment, then nodded her agreement. Michael was surprised to find that once the decision had been made, Philippa did not hesitate, instead stripping off her shoes, uniform pants and underwear.Philippa laid back on the bed and looked expectantly at Michael.

“Do it, before I change my mind,” Philippa mumbled.

Michael slid her hand haltingly up Philippa’s inner thigh.

“You're so wet,” Michael blurted out before she could stop herself.

“Part of the reaction.”

Michael searched her memory for that detail, but came up empty. (She must have forgotten it. The captain was unlikely to be mistaken.)

Michael closed her eyes and breathed as slowly as she could. She tried to think of the movements of her hand as merely going through the motions of any small repair, but the knowledge that she was touching her captain, her friend, in this intimate fashion was overwhelming.

“Vertical or circular strokes?” Michael asked.

“What?”

“Some women prefer their clitoris be stroked with an up and down motion,” Michael explained while demonstrating with her first and second fingers. She watched how Philippa’s breathing changed at the sensation. “Others find a circular motion more pleasing,” she added, her hand shifting its motion.

“I had no idea you'd studied the matter so intently,” Philippa said. She exhaled slowly. “Up and down.”

“I wouldn't say I've studied it,” Michael said as she complied. “I'm certainly not an expert, nor have I conducted any legitimate field research.”

“Dare I ask how you came by this knowledge then?”

“I overheard Lt. Maxwell advising Ensign Detmer on the diverse spectrum of ways to pleasure a female partner.” The corners of Michael’s mouth quirked up at the surprised look on Philippa’s face. “Were you unaware that Ensign Detmer prefers women?”

“Of course not. I'm shocked she'd take Maxwell’s advice on the subject. He's perpetually single.”

“True. And some of the techniques he suggested seemed unlikely to provoke pleasure. But my curiosity was piqued, so I did some reading.”

“Tell me of the unlikely techniques.”

“Captain?”

“Michael, under the circumstances I must insist you call me Philippa.” Philippa’s hips jerked and she shuddered. “Just distract me. I'm too in my head and could use a laugh.”

“Well, for one, he suggested Detmer replicate her intended partner’s favorite food and…”

“And?”

“I'm embarrassed for him.” Michael steeled herself and then pressed on.“Serve it on her unclothed body.”

“That hardly seems sanitary.” Philippa thought for a moment and then burst into laughter.

“What?”

“Saru,” Philippa managed through her giggles. “Covered in blueberries.”

“Now I know all this talking is counterproductive,” Michael chided. “Surely this isn't helping you get any closer to orgasm.”

“On the contrary, Number One. We’re in a ridiculous situation. Sometimes the only way through is with laughter.”

“I suppose. If it helps you relax.”

“It does. What else did Maxwell advise?” Philippa asked.

“Oral stimulation of the ears, nipples, genitals and feet. Verbal sharing of fantasies. Role-playing.”

“Well, he's not 100% wrong, but if you go anywhere near my toes, I’ll throw you in the brig.”

Michael laughed. She paused what she was doing, pulling her hand back so she could undo the captain’s jacket.

“Michael…?”

“These aren't your toes,” Michael said as she divested Philippa of her jacket and undershirt. She trailed a hand down bare skin until her fingertips brushed a navy blue bra.

“Indeed.” Philippa caught Michael’s eye and slowly reached behind her back and unhooked the clasp. The bra fell to the floor and Michael breathed in, quick and sharp.

“I'm sorry Ca—- Philippa. I don't mean to react. I just never imagined I'd be here with you like this.”

“As away missions go, this is an unusual one.”

“May I?” Michael asked breathlessly, gesturing to Philippa’s chest. When Philippa nodded, Michael collapsed forward, her forehead pressing against the smooth skin above Philippa’s sternum. She mouthed her way over skin that burned with the fire of the fever until she could suck one hard nipple into her mouth.

That flipped the switch. Michael felt and heard Philippa’s throaty groan. She flicked her tongue and was delighted with the response.

From that point, Michael’s entire focus was on Philippa— her body and her reactions. Michael experimented with different kinds of touches. She dragged her nails lightly up Philippa’s side, then down her thighs. She kissed Philippa’s neck and her shoulder, then down her abdomen; Michael noted the tension in Philippa’s body as she did that, so she changed course and worked her way up again. She was tempted tomove from Philippa’s earlobe to her mouth, but a kiss seemed dangerous. Perhaps that was her Vulcan upbringing at work.

Michael pushed the image of Philippa’s mouth on hers out of her mind and focused on the matter at hand. She found a good rhythm with her hand and once again bent over to pepper kisses across Philippa’s chest. When she drew her teeth lightly across Philippa’s nipple, Philippa stifled a groan.

“You can be as loud as you want to be,” Michael murmured. “There’s no one else for miles.”

Philippa shook her head.

“It's fine,” Philippa replied, but moments later she was back to muffling her gasps with the back of her hand as she squirmed in Michael’s arms. The stifled mewls only grew more desperate as Michael continued to touch and stroke.

“It's obviously not fine,” Michael finally said. “You're just making yourself frustrated. Let it out, Philippa.”

The only response was a half-hearted glare. Michael frowned and shifted position so she was looming over Philippa slightly. She pulled Philippa’s hand gently but insistently away from her mouth, prompting a groan.

Something about the way Philippa contorted underneath her made a connection in Michael’s brain fire. She had a suspicion, one that burned brighter in her mind’s eye when she tightened her fingers around Philippa’s wrist and her captain whimpered.

“This would be easier if I had three hands,” Michael said quietly. She ignored a quizzical look from Philippa. “But there are other ways.”

“You sound like you're trying to solve me like a problem.”

“A puzzle,” Michael corrected. “And the picture is becoming clearer. Put your hands over your head.”

“What?”

“You heard what I said,” Michael said firmly, with just the barest edge. Her belly flared warm with satisfaction when Philippa did as instructed without another word. “Good. No more covering your mouth. I want to hear you moan when you come for me.”

She waited for Philippa to nod her understanding and compliance, then focused on the movement of her fingers. A light, delicate slide over Philippa’s swollen clit prompted a heady gasp. A firmer touch was rewarded with a groan. Michael alternated the two, internally marveling at how responsive Philippa was.

And yet something was still standing in the way. Michael wondered if Philippa would have preferred another partner, or if there was a flaw in her performance preventing Philippa from achieving orgasm. After several long minutes of internal debate, Michael’s resolve broke.

“How do you achieve release with your chosen partners?” Michael asked. “What's different?”

“I don't know.”

“You're lying,” Michael said lightly. “Do you exclusively prefer males?”

“No!” Philippa exclaimed. “And before you ask, it's not you. It's just me.”

“What do you need? And why can't you ask me for it?” Michael’s brow knit together as she contemplated possibilities. “We’ve known each other for a very long time, Philippa. Please trust me that if you ask more of me than I can give, I’ll tell you.”

Philippa sighed heavily.

“I need you to take your clothes off,” Philippa said finally. Michael was confused why such a simple request was, to Philippa, a huge sticking point, but instead of questioning it she unzipped her uniform.

When Michael was naked, Philippa pulled her close. Michael shivered at the heat coming off Philippa’s feverish body.

“I need to feel you against me,” Philippa murmured. “I'm not good at relaxing when all the focus is on me. I’m sorry, it makes this that much more difficult.”

“Don't apologize,” Michael said. “I'm here, however you need me. Just show me.”

Philippa guided Michael down to the bed. She tugged Michael on top of her and situated them so Michael was straddling her thigh, then adjusted so their centers were roughly aligned.

“Like this,” Philippa mumbled as she began to move against Michael. Michael gasped when Philippa ground against her. Philippa’s hands found Michael’s hips and moved her in a steady rhythm.

Michael felt her pleasure building fast. She looked down at Philippa and her mind went blank.

Philippa’s skin was flushed and shiny. Her eyes were closed and her lips were slightly parted. Her hair spilled over the sheets, tangled curls in all directions.

Michael chanced a glance downward to Philippa’s sharp collarbones. She noted a constellation of freckles there and wanted to press her lips to them but stopped herself. (Michael didn't know where the lines were in this strange situation and that uncertainty made her stomach lurch.)

“What are you thinking?” Philippa’s voice startled her out of her thoughts. Michael’s eyes snapped back up to her face.

“You're so beautiful,” Michael blurted out before she could stop herself.

“As are you,” came Philippa’s reply, too fast to be anything but the truth. Michael felt the blood rising to her cheeks.

“Is this… better?” Michael asked as she continued to move.

“Yes,” Philippa replied, but Michael saw hesitation flicker across her face.

The pieces came together in Michael’s mind. She reached for Philippa’s hands and gently but firmly pushed them above her head.

Michael pressed Philippa’s wrists against the mattress as she rocked against her. Philippa’s body pressed forward, arching into Michael’s rhythmic movements.

“That's it,” Michael mumbled. She kept up her pace. Philippa tensed under her and groaned.

“I'm close,” Philippa whispered.

“Me too,” Michael admitted, surprised. “Come for me, Philippa.”

“You first,” Philippa replied with an impish grin. Michael frowned down at her.

“Don't make this a competition. You know I hate losing,” she said.

“Should I make it an order then?”

Michael leaned forward, putting more pressure on Philippa’s wrists where she had them pinned, and looked Philippa in the eye with what she hoped was a commanding look on her face.

“You're in no position to be giving orders,” she said firmly.

“Oh Michael,” Philippa whimpered. The sound of her name on those lips was intoxicating for Michael, but it paled in comparison to the feel of Philippa’s body thrashing underneath her as she came.

Philippa tried to pull her arms away but Michael held her firmly as she moaned.

It was one of the most beautiful moments Michael had ever experienced. Like watching the birth of a new star or setting foot on a lush undiscovered planet. She watched, mesmerized, until Philippa’s eyes drifted open again.

And then, in a flash, Michael was on her back. Philippa leaned down and brought their mouths together in a deep kiss. Her fingers found Michael’s clit at the same moment.

Michael had forgotten her own arousal, but the first touch brought it back in a flood. She felt needy, desperate for Philippa’s touch, almost as if she was the one with the fever.

But she wasn't. Philippa’s orgasm was necessary; hers was out of bounds. Yet somehow she couldn't bring herself to make Philippa stop.

“Come for me,” Philippa’s voice purred in her ear, and Michael was powerless to resist. She clutched desperately at Philippa, kissed her as if she'd been waiting her whole life to do so, and everything spun out in a dazzling burst of bright light and deep pleasure.

Michael was still gasping raggedly for breath when her communicator beeped. Philippa got to her feet and retrieved it from the pile of clothing on the floor.

“Shenzhou to Commander Burnham. We’ll be in transporter range in five minutes. How's the Captain doing?”

“I'm fine, Saru,” Philippa said evenly. “We’ll be ready. Plan for transport directly to sickbay, and have Dr. Nambue clear the room.”

“Yes Captain. Saru out.”

Philippa snapped the communicator closed. She looked to Michael and the corners of her lips quirked up in a slight smile.

“As away missions go, this is an unusual one,” Philippa repeated. She scooped Michael’s uniform up from the floor and handed it to her before retrieving her own. They dressed in silence.

“Saru to Captain Georgiou. We are within transporter range.”

Michael looked at Philippa, feeling their last moments of privacy ticking away. She opened her mouth to speak but words failed her, so she shut it again.

Philippa nodded as if she understood regardless. She reached out and skimmed her hand down Michael’s jaw. Michael leaned into the touch.

After a long moment, Michael stepped back. She glanced around the room to make sure they weren't inadvertently leaving anything behind, then she activated her communicator.

“Burnham to Shenzhou. Two to transport.”

Michael stared at Philippa’s flushed face, her heart thudding hard in her chest until they both dissolved in a shimmer of light.

 

—

 

Philippa decided to have the conversation at the end of an early shift. There was no night or day in space but it felt unprofessional — and dangerous— to initiate that discussion after hours. She stood outside Michael’s quarters and felt hot, like the fever was still echoing within her, even though the ship’s doctor gave her a perfect bill of health.

When the door slid open, Michael was there, in uniform even though it was her day off. She stood, intentionally relaxed, and Philippa wondered if Michael was somehow expecting her or if she’d been waiting like that all day.

“Your shift ended seven minutes ago,” Michael noted, as if reading her mind. “I’ve known you a long time, so I knew you’d want to talk about it. I thought formal attire might make you more comfortable.”

“And you? It doesn’t make you more comfortable?” Philippa couldn’t help but smile at Michael’s bashful stance and the way her gaze flicked away.

“It does,” Michael admitted quietly. “It makes things feel normal. So I don’t have to think about where we go from here.”

“Having this conversation while alone in your quarters might be inappropriate,” Philippa admitted as the door slid closed behind her.

“The mess hall doesn't seem much better.”

“I considered my ready room but—”

“Any reminder of the chain of command would just make this worse,” Michael finished.

“Yes,” Philippa agreed. She sat down on a bench that afforded a spectacular view of a nearby nebula and searched for what she should say.

“You can just barely see Mintaka V,” Michael said. She sat on the bench, not too close, and directed her focus outward. They sat in silence for several long, heavy moments.

“Thank you,” Philippa said quietly, bringing her eyes back to meet Michael’s.Michael shrugged.

“I did what I would have done for anyone,” Michael said. “You were in danger.The logical thing to do was save your life.”

“Anyone?” The corners of Philippa’s mouth quirked up.

“Yes. Although I must admit I am glad it was you. I’d rather not consider what might have happened had you sent Saru on the mission rather than going yourself.”

“In that situation, Mr. Saru might have preferred to perish,” Philippa said.

“Presenting a further ethical dilemma,” Michael said.“It was hard enough to… even knowing you had given your consent.”

“I am truly sorry for that, Michael.I should have found another way, to avoid putting you in that position.You never should have been expected to do such a thing.”

“What?” Michael looked at her, a crease in her brow and confusion in her eyes.“No, you don’t— I’m not being clear.”

“Then tell me,” Philippa said. She watched as Michael struggled for words. “Take your time.”

“You'd… done that before. With a woman.”

“Yes.” Philippa paused as she considered the implications of the question. “You had not.”

“No.”

“I—”

“I’d thought about it. About you, that way. So much.” Michael raised guilty eyes to Philippa. “I should have tried harder to find another solution, but I wanted… I'm so weak, Philippa.”

“No. I'm the weak one,” Philippa said quietly.

“Weak… for reacting to the lotus?”

“No, that part was involuntary. Biological. It's what I did to you that makes me weak.” Philippa studied Michael, watching for a moment of realization, but it didn't come. “After you… counteracted the pollen, I wanted— it's almost impressive how awkward this is.”

“It shouldn't be. We’re just two friends and colleagues who were forced by circumstances to engage in sexual intercourse. Nothing awkward about that at all,” Michael said dryly.

Philippa smiled, despite herself. They lapsed into silence for a few long moments.

“I shouldn't have kissed you, or touched you like that without your permission. It wasn't necessary,” Philippa admitted. Michael frowned.

“I assumed you were spurred to by the effects of the pollen. Was that not the case?”

“It was not. My mind had already begun to clear by that point.”

Michael frowned. She tilted her head to the side in that particular Vulcan way. Philippa waited for her to speak.

“I’d rather you didn't regret that part. Or any of it, for that matter,” Michael said finally. “I don't.”

Philippa considered it.

“I don't either,” she said. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Michael… if things were different—”

“They'd be different.” Michael nodded. “Don't worry. I won't tell anyone.”

“These things happen,” Philippa said. “We aren't the first pair of Starfleet officers who had to take unusual measures to survive.”

“Indeed. There are three hundred and twenty-eight other recorded instances of similar situations.”

“That many?”

“Including thirty six involving a captain and first officer.”

“I see you've been doing your research,” Philippa said with a hint of a smile. “Have you made any interesting discoveries?”

“A few. First, in all but two of those captain/first officer incidents, both parties remained in their roles for at least a year after their encounter. Presumably without ill effect.”

“And the other two?”

“In one the first officer was killed in an unrelated accident within weeks. In the other, they married.”

“Fascinating. Did you look deeper into that one?”

“It seems they had feelings for each other before the incident, which served to clarify them.”

“Like us,” Philippa said lightly. She concealed her amusement at the shock on Michael’s face. “We’re talking around it, Michael. We’re better than that.”

“Like us,” Michael repeated. “I'm not sure what any of this means, Philippa.”

“I'm not either,” Philippa admitted in a low voice. “But it's just as you said… we will adapt.”

“We will adapt,” Michael agreed.

 

 

 

 


End file.
